Margarets Grand Entrance
“Mary! That is not a stew! Thats an unholy mess of a salad! Darling, youre a wonderful solicitor, so please stick to your strengths and leave the kitchen to those of us less intellectually endowed.”
“Margot, I am not just a woman!” Marys frustration was so raw, she was almost in tears.
Why could she never master even the simplest of recipes? The mere idea of attempting anything more ambitious had never even crossed her mind. In their family, the roles had long been allocated.
Veronica was the homemaker, Mary was the clever one, and Sophie was the wild child, the can-do force able to make any cog turn exactly the way she wanted. So, for family gatherings, Veronica usually cooked, while Mary and Sophie handled behind-the-scenes logistics: cleaning up, grocery runs, and wrangling the childrena task left to Sophie. Only she could marshal the Smith clan so that Veronicas house, where they all congregated, wasnt reduced to ruinor needing an emergency extensionafter every visit. The Smith family adored their children, doted on them outrageously, but they were determined to instil a certain discipline, no matter how unsuccessful that effort usually was.
All seven grandchildren of Margaret Smithwhom she loved as fiercely as any grandmother ever couldwere remarkably like their Aunt Sophie. Never mind that Sophie herself was now mother to two of the young ones currently racing across the lawn, claws out like pirates or perhaps even wildlings. Motherhood didnt seem to have slowed her at all. She sat on the garden steps, sorting plums for compote, and looked so tempted to join the chaos that only Veronicas stern glances held her back. Chopping tomatoes for yet another salad, Veronica muttered clear objections under her breath:
“Youre no woman, more a scallywag. Sophie, will you ever settle down? Mary here, shes respectable. As for me well, I try. But you? Will you always be this leaping jackrabbit? Roaring around on that motorbike, singing about the joys of life? Sophie, your children are growing! How will they see their mother in a few years time? At six, its endearing, but come a couple years more, will they cover their eyes in shame?”
“Veronica, dont exaggerate!” Mary, casting another hopeless look into the stew shed wasted her morning on, set the lid back on with a sigh. “They have plenty to be proud of. Who else can say their mother can take apart a motorbike and put it back together? Can you? I cant even make decent soup! Are you saying youre not proud of me?”
“I am. You cant cook soup, but in court, youre impressive.”
“Exactly! Do you see?”
“See what?”
“That we should each stick to what were good at.”
“Beautifully put!” Margaret, whod missed part of the exchange, swept onto the veranda. The women went silent, children stopped mid-argument and gawped at their grandmother, regal and resplendent.
“Wow!” Sophies twins clicked their tongues in perfect synchrony at the sight of herso theatrically loud that Margaret started.
“Well, weve made an impression.”
She turned slowly, showing off new dress and high-heeled shoesreserved only for truly momentous occasions like today.
“Well, ladies? Acceptable, do we think, for a mature woman on her way to meet a man who last saw her forty years ago?”
“Margot, you look superb! Hell fall at your feet!”
“Lets not go that far!” Margaret struck up and down the veranda, hands on hips, chin raised. “What use is a swooning man to me? I want to know why hes sought me out after all these years. What does he want from me?”
“Maybe he wants something only a woman can give.”Veronicas eldest, fifteen-year-old Alice, hopped onto the step next to her aunt, popping half a plum in her mouth. “What?”
Laughter erupted so violently that two sunbathing cats leapt from the rail, and the small terrier”Sir Reginald,” as Veronica grandly called himbolted under the table, quaking.
“Alice, youll be the death of me,” Veronica gasped, wiping her tears, while Mary soothed the unfortunate dog.
“Margot, what exactly was it, with you two?” Mary shushed the children, who fled to the far end of the garden.
“Oh, Mary! We had a romance!”
Margaret uttered “romance” with such dramatic feeling that Alice, ready to chase the younger ones, fell back onto the step in awe. Sophie dissolved in stitches.
“Alice, its far too early for you to worry about such things.”
“Oh? And when is it time?” Alice snagged the discarded cloth her mother had dropped, mopped up a spill, and sighed, “No private life at all! How old were you, Margot, when you had your romance?”
“Sixteen,” Margot confessed with a rueful shrug, catching Veronicas eye. “Dont look at me like that, dear. I was young, naïve, and utterly foolish! Not a fate for your Alice. Shes sensible and beautifulshe takes after you. But she must learn: young love is treacherous and the consequences can scar the soul. Dont you agree?”
“Oh, Margot, just get on with it!” Sophie, tears streaming from laughter, blurted out. “Theres no shifting Alice, you might as well tell the storyshell only get more cunning.”
Alice glanced up, grateful, her green eyesso like Margaretsbrimming with curiosity. People often remarked on the uncanny resemblance, despite their lack of blood ties. Indeed, neither Veronica, Mary, nor Sophie were Margarets by blood. Yet shed become the mother theyd lost.
Margaret entered the Smith sisters lives shortly after their mother died. Their father was lost, shattered, unable to cope. The world collapsed the day their mum passed away after a brief illness.
Veronica, just eight, found herself caring for her little sisters because anytime she asked for help, her father would only sigh, “Oh, Veronica, your mother would know what to do She always knew best.”
Those words frightened Veronica sick. She soon stopped asking, managing as best she could. With Mary at five somewhat sensible, life was just about possible. Two-year-old Sophie, wild and relentless, never gave her a moments rest.
Their grandmother arrived “to help,” lost her head after a fortnight, and soon announced defeat.
“Sorry, son-in-law. I simply cant do it. Too old, too tiredthe children are little whirlwinds. Im going home. If you like, Veronica can come with me. As for the younger two youll have to manage.”
Veronicas heart thudded in her chest as she overheard the conversation that threatened to take away everything she loved.
Even Sophie, screwdriver in hand, poised to poke an outlet, looked so stricken she howled so loudly that Veronica grabbed her, cradling her close.
“Dont cry! I wont go! Ill hide and she wont find me!”
But, mercifully, their grandmother left without further drama. Their father shrugged passively as she departed, convinced hed done his bit.
A few months later, Margaret appeared.
Sophie became feverish; after two days, Veronica, who wouldnt leave her side, knocked on her fathers study, where he locked himself away “to work,” and pleaded for a doctor.
“Veronica, is it urgent? Im busy,” he called back, his voice so cold it terrified her.
Fear was now Veronicas constant companion, from the moment she woke. Would she get to school on time? Would she cook the porridge right so Mary wouldnt refuse? Would Sophie create mayhem in her absence? She was wary of everything.
But this wasnt the time for fear. Sophie was sweating and delirious, calling for both her sister and her mum.
“Yes, Dad, its urgent! Sophies dying!”
Maybe that phrase caught his attention, or maybe he heard true panic. He opened the door, the doctor came, and for the first time since her mother died, Veronica could relinquish her burdensif only for an afternoon.
Margaret Smith, the locum paediatrician covering their patch, arrived that evening. Grumbling about utility workers digging up the street and her own unfinished dinner, she navigated the muddy path by the front door, and briskly asked the old ladies on the bench,
“The Smiths?”
With Margarets formidable presence, she gathered all the information she needed in a few sentences, then hurried upstairs, where she instantly took charge. Within minutes, shed called an ambulance and gone with Sophie and their father to hospital. Giving their father such a dressing-downloud, no-nonsense, and scathingthat he could only splutter before giving up and shouting in frustration,
“What do you want from me?”
“Be a father, for heavens sake! Or do you simply not care? No mother and no father, is that what you want for your children? Wheres your conscience?”
Margaret was louder and more effective than their father, and her point was crystal clear. With a sudden sense of peace, Veronica realised that, at last, her father was back in charge and maybe, just maybe, she could be a child for a while.
When it became clear Margaret would remain, Veronica was relieved. She liked this capable woman who brought order to their upended lives. Sitting all three sisters down, Margaret explained: “You have one mother, and no one can replace her. Just call me by my name.” From then on, Veronica was certain they were lucky in their new stepmother.
Not everyone agreed. Mary, most closely tied to their late mother, was automatically anti-Margaret. However much Veronica tried, Mary wouldnt listenshed block her ears and hum, insistent: “Leave me alone! I only want Mum!”
Veronica, working for peace, held her ground as long as she could, but when Sophie began copying Mary, she couldnt take it.
“Mary! I dont know what to do with you! Youre selfish! Mums gone! Youre not the only one who misses herI do, too! But she isnt coming back! And I dont want to be your mum. I cant. Im not cut out for it!”
Margaret found them all weeping, stuffed in corners, and simply gathered them up, ignoring Marys resistance, cradled them all in her arms, and stroked their hair, backs, and arms.
“Dont cry, my loves. Youre right, youll never have your mum again, but Im still here! I cant be a mother to you, but Ill always be a friend. No one will ever harm you. Understood?”
For once, the Smith girls sobbed without embarrassment. Mary resisted, but Sophie fell asleep on Margarets lap, sniffling, and peace was sown for the first time.
Understanding came later. Margaret, who had always longed for children but had accepted the impossibility after a failed operation, became a mother to the Smith sisters in all but name.
Their father died just a year after he remarried, knocked down by a passing car while lost in thought. The news stunned Margaret, but she ran straight to the girls school, shoeless, and intercepted the anxious headteacher:
“Ill tell them myself!”
At home, she gathered the stunned children, fed them, then sat them before her.
“Girls Dad No, lets not say it that way. You are not alone! You have me, and I will never abandon you!”
The Smith girls were terrified, but they clung to each other and Margaret, hiding their grief in her warm embrace. Things would never be the same, but at least they wouldnt be quite so frightening.
Margaret kept her promise. With the adoption papers already in motion, there were no legal questions. She left the surgery and started working at two private clinics, making just about enough money, and set about raising her three wild, extraordinary girls.
And wild they wereeach with her own dreams. Margaret honoured every ambition, even ones that defied her own vision.
“An actress, Mary? Thats a surprise. Mary, its not simple. Wait and see.” Shed call in a few favours; within days, Mary was auditioning at the local theatre. Even famous directors needed a good, trusted doctor for their children…
Two years of drama school later, Mary changed her mind, and Margaret exhaled quietlytoo many fights for such a sensitive girl.
“Sophie! If you must risk your neck, at least do it properly.” Out came the protective gear and a respectable motorbike, bought after Margaret sold her inherited garden plot. Sophies dream would not be denied. Later, Margaret found a stuntman to teach Sophie after ringing round her old patientssafety over regret was always her motto.
When Sophie finally got her workshop, Margaret only shrugged at the questions from friends, “So what? Its a job, isnt it? Who sets these standards, anyway? Shes happy, earning a bit, and what more could I want?”
Veronica, the eldest, never gave Margaret a moments worry. Level-headed and mature beyond her years, sometimes Margaret hugged her tightly and whispered, “Breathe, my darling! Im always with you!”
Veronica lived for those momentsbrief returns to being a little girl, safe and cherished.
Margaret worked hard to be there, to rescue, to shield. It didnt always work, but she raised them all, saw them grow, start their own families, have their own lives Life was good, wasnt it?
Everything ran smoothlyuntil a phone call three days ago. The voice, tremulous yet familiar, said her name. The tea cup fell from her hands, and she dropped heavily into her favourite chair, missing it, and spent several minutes on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling, ignoring her granddaughter Alices frantic questions.
“Alice, call your mother! I need emotional and psychological supportimmediately!”
Veronica sped over, nearly driving the car off the road, desperately trying to reach her sisters.
“Margot, whats happened?”
“I think Ive lost my mind!”
“Thats hardly news,” Veronica retorted, pulling off her coat.
Sophie burst through the dooranother whirlwind entrance, helmet under her arm.
“Look at yourself, Veronica! Nagging about my driving again? You never see her when she should be napping, but now you complain! Margaret, look what Ive done on my helmetmarvellous, isnt it?”
“Stunning. And whats that supposed to be?”
“A dragon!”
“Typical,” Margaret rolled her eyes. “Girls? May I go on a date?”
The older womens faces were priceless, as Alice ducked into the kitchen, giggling. The mathematics session was obviously abandoned for today.
Who would the date be with? Ah, but that was another story.
The family spent days debating this extraordinary event. Gathering in Veronicas big, welcoming house, Margaret was interrogated.
“What should I tell you? He was my first love! Goodness, he was handsomethe hair, the height. And his voice Hed only have to say hello and Id go weak at the knees.”
“Gran, did you love him?”
“Madly so,” Margaret sighed theatrically. “So much love, so much pain.”
“But why the pain?”
“Because, my dear, my love was hopeless. Worse, it brought me only misery. I was lost in it! Oh, listen to meI should declaim this tale as a ballad!”
“Oh go on, Gran! Please!”
“My child, its a story to be sung, not told! But as Im no nightingale today, Ill have to condense my tragedy into mere prose.”
Sophie, wiping tears of laughter, dragged over another bowl of plums. “Less drama, more details, Gran!”
“Dont make fun,” Margaret warned. “Otherwise, instead of the eclairs you fancy, youll get the classic three-finger gesture our familys made so famous.”
“Im quiet, I promise! Poor Alice is desperate to know!”
“And who can blame her? Our Margot is an enigma. She knows everything about us and reveals nothing of herself unless something truly disastrous occurs.”
“Better that, darlings, than you knowing more than you should,” Margaret retorted, fanning herself with Alices maths notebook like an ivory fan. “Now listenno interruptions! I long bid this story farewell; you are not to judge me.”
“Thats not why were here,” Veronica smiled, scraping the tomatoes into the salad and reaching for the cucumbers.
“Ha! Youre all as sharp as tacksI know you are. Alas My first love was not crowned by wedding bells. How could it be? I was sixteen, he was seventeen, our rivala neighbourwas all of eighteen!”
“She was older?” Alice bit her tongue as Sophie signalled for silence.
“Well, the difference seems silly now, but back then it was an ocean. We were still in school; she was a university student. Our mothers were friends, so we knew each other well. Heres your first lesson, Alicenever gush about your amazing boyfriend to a friend. Nothing good will come of itenvy is a rot that spreads before you know it. Once it takes hold, its nearly impossible to shift. Thats what happened to me. By the time I realised they were seeing each other, I was head over heels for him, but I said nothing. Just suffered in silence, too scared to confess.”
“Didnt you go full Jane Austen heroine, Gran?” Alice piped up, then clapped a hand over her mouth.
“No. I read Austen. I learned. I realised nothing could come of ita handful of moonlit kisses before we parted ways? He was off to join the navy; I wanted to be a doctor. Well, at least in that, both our dreams came true. He did write, you know! Twice. In my first letter, I told him I loved him.”
“Hooray!” Alice nearly tumbled off the steps in delight.
But there was an edge in Margarets voice that sobered all three sisters.
“And then?” Alice, fingers white, waited for the answer.
“And in the second, I told him no.”
“Why?” Alices face crumpled.
“Because, darling, I had nothing to give him but my love. And a man, sometimes, needs more.”
“More?”
“Children, sweetheart. His future. And I knew then, I might never be able to give him that. You cant only think of what makes you happyyou have to love someone enough to put their needs first. Heres your second lesson: if you find someone who is more concerned for your happiness than their own, hold tightly to themtheyre the real thing. Never doubt it.”
Alice rolled a plum in her hands pensively, wiping off the bloom.
“And what happened next?” She looked up to see Margaret crying quietly. Tears ran down Margarets cheeks, raw and free. Alice jumped up, dashed to her, and kissed the tears away.
“Dont cry! Thats enough for todayI understand. Please dont. Your nose will go red and your eyes will puff upnot even makeup will help!”
Margaret hugged her back and got to her feet. “Youre right. Ill go and freshen up! Big night ahead! A rare thing, indeed. I must rise to the occasion.”
The sisters saw her off in silence. What was there to say? Margaret always told themto turn the page and keep reading, even if the ending was predictable.
Sophie carried the plums inside. Veronica cleaned away and dived into the kitchen chores; Mary collapsed into the hammock with her book, but soon drifted off, lulled by an unfamiliar peace. It niggled at her, but, captivated by sleep, she let herself drift, never guessing shed soon regret it.
Hours later, a car stopped by the gate. An elderly man, stylish in a flat cap, checked a note then knocked.
“Good evening. Could I see Margaret Smith?”
Veronica, opening the door, raised her brows in inquiry, but refused to turn away a guest. After all, the meeting was hours offwho knew what he needed? Only when he gave his name did she nearly laugh aloud. This was the hero from Margarets story.
“I thought you were meeting in the city?”
“I finished early and couldnt wait any longer.”
“I see. Do come in. Ill fetch her now.”
Veronica took a step toward the verandaand stopped dead, mouth agape.
She had reason. Onto the veranda swept Margaret in all her glory, and everyone, seeing her, lost the power of speech.
Her grand entrance.
Margarets striking eyeliner, the work of the twins and their freshest felt tips, made her eyes so dramatic that Alice, sighing, fetched the cleaning rag again, while the small terrier hid trembling under the table, once more traumatised. As for her hairendless pins and blossoms from her youngest granddaughters, styled while she nappedMargarets head looked more like the winner of a madcap salon contest than anything ever intended for a date.
“Good heavens, Margaret!” Veronica gasped, then broke into helpless laughter. A moment later their guest, frozen in shock mid-step, let out a gasp, yanked off his cap, and his shining scalp caught the evening sun. Veronica collapsed on the path, roaring with laughter, echoed by her sisters.
“So much forforthat magnificent hair!”
Their bewildered guest spun around, thought for a moment, then started laughing too.
“Once upon a time, I had curls, I was dashing, dangerous! Those days are gone, but, Margaret, Im delighted to see you again.”
Margaret, finally awake, darted a look at Alice, whose admiration was equal to her horror, and dashed inside. The garden was filledfirst with a strangled wail, then such wild laughter that Sophie leaped up, shouting, “Im first!” and bounded into the downstairs loo.
After the laughter subsided, and Margaret scrubbed off the worst of her new improvements, the family gathered on the veranda. The evening stretched long, the start of a new chapter in this remarkable familys life.
And another page turned.
The Smith sisters, without a word, agreedone simply cannot have too many good people. If this man, so different from Margarets long-cherished image, came himself, and rather than fleeing in horror, joined their jokes and wanted the detailsthen, perhaps, he was worthy of the woman who had become their familys heart. Time would tell. Time must be given to those who ask for it. And they saw, clearer than ever, both in their guests eyes and, most importantly, in Margarets nervous, sea-deep gaze, that the wish was mutual.
As Veronica handed Margaret a fresh cup of tea, she grasped her arm and whispered:
“Go on then. Dont be afraid. Were right here with you. Be bold!”
